


The One Where The Akatsuki Ruin An OC's Life

by fascinationex



Series: naruto works by fascinationex [17]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Akatsuki cats, Crack, Gen, Humor, Lockdown Fic, OC/SI, Silly, Very Minor Character Death, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28952502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fascinationex/pseuds/fascinationex
Summary: Naomi had not strictly expected that the cats she'd brought into her home—they had been left in a box on her doorstep, scuffling clumsily and mewling angrily in the grey dawn light—would turn out to be a variety of weird, large, angry ninja.
Relationships: Akatsuki & Original Female Character
Series: naruto works by fascinationex [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/997137
Comments: 8
Kudos: 49





	The One Where The Akatsuki Ruin An OC's Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misfit_McCoward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misfit_McCoward/gifts).



> IT'S MISFIT MCCOWARD'S BIRTHDAY. *confetti* That's not why I wrote this, it's laughable to think I would plan well enough to think about answering her prompt on her birthday, but hey, it still is. Happy birthday, Misfit.

It was 9:45PM. All the lights were on, bathing the main room of Naomi's tiny apartment an unforgiving yellow. 

There was yelling. 

A lot of yelling. 

Naomi had not strictly expected that the cats she'd brought into her home—they had been left in a box on her doorstep, scuffling clumsily and mewling angrily in the grey dawn light—would turn out to be a variety of weird, large, angry ninja. 

She'd exposed a single one of them to water when he'd rammed into her at speed and caused her to drop a cup, and then suddenly she'd lost all control of everything and her apartment was just—full of wet, loud, naked people. 

It wasn't the first eye-full of dick Naomi had gotten, and it probably would not be the last, but there was certainly an unexpected _saturation_. 

Naomi had been sitting at her table, trying to come to terms with the "cat + water = angry human" situation for more than an hour now. The yelling—continual, spiking noise whose lulls and peaks were unpredictable at best—was giving her the kind of headache that sat right behind her eyeballs and made her feel like her brain was going to be sick. 

"Oh?" Itachi was saying, deep and superior: "You think highly of your skills." 

"Give me a break! How much skill do you think it takes to cut _your_ head off?" Hidan returned at a volume Naomi judged was not conducive to the neighbours' new baby remaining asleep. They were going to hate her. 

Naomi would have loved to have herded these idiots out of her house to a nearby park to destroy the scenery or something. Or if she couldn't manage that, at least, she would have loved to have taken _herself_ off to one, Christ. Unfortunately, there was a pandemic, and a citywide lockdown, and an associated curfew. 

They were _all_ stuck in her house. 

...Naomi was never getting her bond back.

She felt queasy. This was not a new development, but now her eyeballs were starting to feel like they might vomit. It was that kind of day. 

It was honestly kind of astonishing how much yelling Hidan had inside his body, just waiting to come out. Naomi had thought he'd been loud as a cat, when she'd brought him in, but the yowling had nothing on the lungs on him as a grown man. 

She put her head on the table and covered her skull with her arms. 

"Please," she said, muffled. It didn't matter, really: she was prepared to go ignored again. "Please put some trousers on." 

"Aa... you shouldn't take your eyes off them," said Tobi, from right next to her, where he had certainly not been when she put her head down about two seconds ago. "What if they do something scary?" 

"I've seen Shippuden," she muttered, rolling her face away from his voice. There wasn't any point looking at him, either. She couldn't see his face. He might have arrived naked, but he'd arrived naked and _masked_. Somehow. 

"Eh?" Oh, now it was on the other side. Grand. 

"They're not something I can stop," she predicted. Maybe she could just... sleep like this? Maybe forever? 

Across the room came the sound of wood breaking. Naomi hunched her shoulders and didn't look up. She didn't want to know. 

"Ahh... Does Naomi-san bake?" Tobi wondered, which was dumb and unnecessary enough that she looked back up at him. 

It was only the stupid orange mask, swirling about an inch from her face. 

"Sure," she said wearily. "I bake." 

"Nice," said Tobi. 

Across the room Hidan punched the couch, which she inferred he believed to be Itachi. Unfortunately Sasori and Deidara had been ensconced in it, bickering, and now something jagged and dripping shot forth from Sasori's mouth to embed itself in Hidan's side. 

He roared, more in offence and surprise than pain. Whatever Sasori had done didn't even slow him down. 

Deidara vaulted the couch and used it to shield himself from an incoming attack. 

Sasori opened his mouth again (revealing nothing like a tongue and teeth and normal mouth-anatomy, but rather a little glimpse into a hellish landscape of pointed mechanics and a deathly chemical reek that had Naomi covering her mouth) but Kisame appeared behind them. He grabbed Deidara and Sasori each by their hair and lifted them, one in each arm, to shake them like naughty kittens. 

"Don't you think all arguments can be calmed down by a plate of fresh-baked cookies," Tobi suggested to her. 

"...No?" said Naomi, looking back at him. 

"I do," he said, leadingly. 

She eyed him. 

"I _really_ do." He leaned closer. 

She leaned back and further away. Tobi was not the biggest member of the Akatsuki--although he might have been the most unhinged--but he was big enough to loom and intimidate, and that was without even considering all the other things he could do.

"You want me to make cookies?" Her face twisted. 

"Well, if Naomi-san is _offering_ —" He brightened. It was a full body kind of brightening, which, unfortunately, drew her attention _to his body_. 

Naomi made a noise in her throat, then closed her eyes and let her brain fill passively with the noises of the room: the thump of footsteps, the grunts of angry ninja fighting, the crash of something else getting broken as someone new fell beneath Itachi's illusion and tried to stab him in the lampshade, the soft rustle of Konan's papercraft cloak. 

Hidan was snarling about tearing out someone's entrails, but it was Deidara's shrill, "I am going to make you _swallow_ my next masterpiece, yeah!" that really engaged her imagination. 

At least none of them was _in_ the kitchen, she reasoned. 

"Sure," she sighed. "Why not. Cookies." 

She pushed back the chair and rose from the table. 

"Uh," said Tobi. 

"Wh—" 

He shoved her forward just in time to avoid a projectile that came whistling through the air towards her head. It clipped right through his semi-real wrist in the process, and he immediately wailed in dramatic pain at a volume that made her wince. 

"IT DIDN'T EVEN HIT YOU," screamed Deidara over at them. Had it been him who'd thrown the—she looked down—china vase? Oh good. Another casualty of the mysterious Akatsuki Cat Invasion. "YOU'RE NOT EVEN HURT, YEAH." 

"Senpai! That's not right! It hurt Tobi's _feelings_!" 

Naomi made an exhausted noise, but rapidly found herself shuffled off to the kitchen anyway. Tobi did not move his hand from her shoulder, which was weird, but not weirder than anything else going on in her house right then. 

The door to the kitchen shut behind her, muffling—but certainly not muting—the wall of noise that was the rest of the place. It was an old kitchen, with palm-sized, patterned tiles on the floor, peeling wallpaper pasted into the pantry, a lazily ticking fan in the ceiling. The walls were a dim yellow that never seemed to look quite clean. But the house was a rental, and it did the job. 

"Cookies," Naomi muttered, clinging to the door of the pantry and eyeing her dry ingredients. She knew she should not put so much of her weight on the hinges of the pantry door, but for today she felt like it was half holding her up. 

Sugar, salt and flour from the cupboard... eggs and butter from the fridge... She didn't have any good vanilla, but she had some ancient vanilla essence that smelled okay. 

Naomi knew she had a stand mixer somewhere, but it might still have been in the boxes she'd shunted into her "garage", never to be unpacked. She found an electric beater and a bowl. 

"Why cookies?" she asked, once she was watching the wet ingredients—sugar was always a wet ingredient, when baking—mix into a creamy mass. She glanced over her shoulder at Tobi and then wished she hadn't, again, because there was something ludicrously, brain-breakingly surreal about the naked and unconcerned masked presence in her dingy kitchen. 

"Ah!" Tobi rubbed the chin of his mask like he was stroking a beard contemplatively. He didn't even have a beard under there. Naomi knew it, even if Tobi didn't know she knew. At length—just as she was getting bored enough to play with her measuring cup—he leaned in and told her, confidentially, "Tobi has read these fics, too, Na-o-mi." 

"What," she said, so flatly that the word lost all its punctuation. 

"What?" he asked. 

They stared at each other. 

...At least, Naomi assumed they did. 

"What?" she said again. 

"Don't you like cookies?" His masked head tilted. 

"Uh," said Naomi. 

His head kept tilting, until she wondered if it was really attached, despite being able to see the straining tendon in his neck.

She stared some more, and then in her inattentiveness she moved her hand and almost sent the mixing bowl flying off the bench. She yelped and swore, catching it against her belly.

"Careful," said Tobi pleasantly.

"Um," she said, feeling her heart racing grossly beneath her ribs. 

Blessedly, the doorbell rang. "I'll just—" She didn't finish the sentence, just turned her mixer off and put it down, then grabbed a tea towel for her hands on the way to the door. She fled the room like a fox flees the hunting dogs, and shut the door behind her in Tobi's face. 

Of course, there were so many other bodies in the house that it would have been odd if she'd been the one to reach and open it first. 

But she kind of wished she had been, because Kisame had opened the door to a police officer. 

Dressed in a crisp blue uniform and leaning back on his hips, the officer looked like every police officer Naomi had ever seen, which was to say: mid-height, pale skin, with the build of someone who used to be fit and had lost some of the habit over time. 

He was looking at Kisame less like he'd never seen a towering man with blue skin before, and more like he was sick of talking to people about the numbers of people who were allowed to be gathered in a house. 

"—costume party is an unlawful gathering," he was saying as Naomi finally got close enough to hear him through his bland blue surgical mask. 

"Heh," said Kisame, glancing deeper into the house. "Costume party, huh..." 

To be fair to the cop, he was a giant blue man in a bath towel. She was sure 'costume party' was about the kindest thing the officer could have inferred from this situation. 

"They're members of the household!" Naomi yelled down the corridor. The very last thing she needed was a fine for breaching the lockdown rules, goddammit. 

The officer shot her a tired look, exactly like he really, really could not believe she was trying to pretend that more than ten screaming people were living in her two bedroom rental in the suburbs. She cringed inside. Maybe he had a point. 

"Look, there are rules in place to keep everyone safe right now," he said. "I'm not here to debate them with you—you need to all go home now, and the host of the gathering is going to be subject to an on the spot fine of four thousand nine hundred and fifty seven dollars—" 

Naomi ground her teeth, watching him pull some kind of device out to start writing down information, presumably to fine them. Fuck. _Fuck_. 

"Can I get some ID?" 

"Hmm," said Kisame, thoughtfully. From someone his size it was a sort of deep, tectonic-like rumble. "No." 

Naomi's belly did a horrible flop of premonition. 

"Wait," she started, panicked. 

But Kisame had already moved before she even got the word out. 

The cop didn't actually have time to react—he was starting to look up, annoyed at Kisame's refusal, and then he crumpled when Kisame's lightning-fast hand left his neck. The muscles in Kisame's forearm flexed like industrial cabling. 

"Oh my god," said Naomi. Her lungs were full of air but her head spun, and all she could do was stare at the crumpled body and repeat herself: "Oh my _god_." 

"Foolish," Itachi mused, deep voice shockingly close. She jumped. "We could have simply made him leave." 

"Always the pacifist, Itachi-san," said Kisame with a jagged little smile. 

Itachi hummed, but he didn't look as though the body was really representing any particular problem for him. 

Naomi covered her eyes with her hands. "You killed a _cop_ ," she moaned. 

More silent ninja bodies drifted into the entryway to see what was going on. 

"Hmm," said Sasori, in the tone of someone with a vested interest in dead bodies. 

If Naomi survived this, she was definitely going to jail. "Christ. Fuck. _Christ!_." 

They all ignored her histrionics, with the air of people who felt they were being politer than she deserved. 

"You killed a cop!" she yelled, much, much louder.

"You said that," Kakuzu said flatly, watching as Sasori dragged the police officer indoors. He was already examining him for utility as a puppet as he kicked the door closed behind him. "I'll be collecting your fine from you." 

"You'll be _excuse me_?" Naomi demanded, given something new to worry about at last. 

"We don't kill people for free. Kisame saved you the inconvenience of a fine—" she looked over at Kisame for a second, and he flashed her a smile not unlike the one he'd given Itachi: narrow, gleaming and needle sharp. "It's cheap, but I've accounted for our food and lodgings. Unless you'd prefer to renegotiate?" 

Kakuzu's eyes seemed to drill into her face, like he was already seeing her grey matter smeared on the wall. He towered over her, huge and solid. 

Naomi swallowed tightly. "Sure," she said. "Of course." 

Her entire body felt like horrible shaking jelly. Why had she taken the cats? Why hadn't she punted them out into the middle of the freeway? 

"Naomi-san!" yelled Tobi. "Are you going to make the cookies?" 

She stared at Kakuzu. 

He stared back. 

After a second she said, a little louder to be heard over the sound of Hidan picking an unwise fight with Konan, "Sure, Tobi." 

Cookies. Sure. Why not.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked something about this story, please feel free to let me know in a comment
> 
> [tumbly](https://cardio-vore.tumblr.com/)  
> [tweety](https://twitter.com/fascination_ex)


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